Happy Christmas
by Kiara7
Summary: Harry/Ron slash. A one chapter ficlet about Harry and Ron's first 'time'. PG13 for brief (very brief) nudity and foreplay above the belt. Do not read if bothered by any of this.


**Er – This is my first attempt at anything Harry/Ron.  It's just a cute little short story, one chapter ficlet.  I am rather afraid that I didn't do this pairing (one of my favorites) justice, and I probably didn't.  Anyway, I hope you enjoy and please be kind.**

**This is dedicated to a good friend of mine as a Christmas present.  You know who you are.  And I know you didn't expect me to actually write it, but here it is.**

**And I _have to thank my red-headed, torch bearing best friend who allowed me to pick his brain, contributed thoughts, and his own lurid fantasies to write this chapter.  That and I'd like to 'thank' him for saying halfway through the chapter "You should write pornography."  Like my regular stuff isn't good._**

**Happy Christmas, everyone.****  I hope you have a good one.**

**Please excuse my spelling and grammar mistakes.**

**WARNING:  This chapter is rated PG-13 because it isn't racy enough to be R, but there _is a mention of sex, brief nudity, and light foreplay above the belt in this story.  If any of these things offend you, please do not read._**

**DISCLAIMER:  I am not JK Rowling and I am making no money off this trifle of a story.  The characters of Harry and Ron are her own.  I am merely using them for my own enjoyment.**

~*~

_Happy Christmas_

Staring down at the badly wrapped, lumpy parcel before him, Ron frowned and added a few more pieces of Spello tape.  He was never very good at wrapping gifts and Ron briefly wondered if there was some sort of spell he could use that would make the activity easier.  Promising to ask Hermione later (as he figured if anyone would know, it would be she), he gave up on trying to make the gift look somewhat presentable and added it to a pile of gifts, also badly wrapped and unappealing to the eye.  People were just going to have to deal with is bad wrapping jobs.  It wasn't like they didn't shred the paper and throw it away, anyway.  He turned to his next present.

For Christmas, Ron had gotten Harry a beautiful emerald green cloak with a silver clasp bearing his initials.  Harry had been complaining for weeks (Ron could vouch for this as Harry had been complaining to him) about how someone had shrunk his old cloak and it wouldn't fit anymore.  Of course, Harry's cloak hadn't really shrunk, but as he had grown a good four inches over the summer and failed to get any new cloak besides the school one, his cloak was indeed too small.  If Ron had to hear him whine about having to wear his school cloak one more time, he planned on using a silencing charm on him, at the very least.  Temptation, however, was suggesting cutting out Harry's tongue.  Hermione had taken to lecturing Harry, claiming that if he really didn't want to wear his school cloak, he should have thought of getting another one.  Not one to want to be lectured, Harry had stopped whining about this to Hermione and now Ron was his only source.  Getting the cloak had been imperative.  Now, Ron was sitting before it, wondering how in Merlin's name he was going to wrap it.

If he thought the job he had done on that Charms book for Hermione, it was nothing comparing to the butchered wrapping job he was doing on this cloak.  Bits of Spello tape were everywhere except the package it seemed.  Even a few pieces had managed to find their way into his messy mop of red hair that now stuck out at various angles from Ron trying to get the stuff out.  He gave a heavy sigh, ripped apart the packaging, and tried to start all over again with fresh paper.  The crumpled pieces were shoved under his bed where he also threw the balled up Spello tape he had pulled out of his hair.  Even Ron, himself, was starting to find this situation comical, but that could have been his frustration forcing its way out.  Laughter always was the best way to deal when Ron started to feel like a hopeless case.

Once he had finally managed to get the cloak wrapped ("And Harry had better appreciate the blasted thing," Ron had muttered to himself.), he grabbed all of the presents and shoved them under his bed with his wrapping scraps.  They could be taken care of later, or never, which with Ron was probably the more likely option.  Standing up, he pulled the edge of his sheets down to cover the space beneath his bed and he pulled the curtains around it shut.  He leaned against the wall, staring out the window, and giving off a low exhale.  It amazed him every year just how tired wrapping presents could make him.

The sun was already high in the sky and Ron had started wrapping at dawn.  Harry had gotten up early for Quidditch practice, forcing the rest of the team out onto the field when most people were still in bed.  Last year, their fifth year, Harry had been made Quidditch captain and there was no doubt that he lived up to his predecessor.  Like Oliver Wood, Harry had them practicing at odd hours of the day in all types of weather.  Ron thought they were crazy and it was his desire, not to mention his particular fancy for sleeping that kept him from trying out for the team.  He knew he could probably make it, especially with Harry as captain, but Ron didn't know if he really wanted to deal with all the work.  He was having enough trouble keeping up with his studies as it was. 

Neville and Dean had already gotten up and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast, chuckling at Ron's failing efforts to wrap gifts almost an hour ago.  Seamus was still in bed, snoring loudly like he usually did.  From the time it seemed that Ron had been wrapping, Harry should be back soon.  He sighed, cracked his neck, and decided to make his way to breakfast.  In addition to making him sleepy, wrapping presents had a tendency to make him hungry. 

Ron had just entered the common room when Harry came crawling through the portrait hole, still dressed in his dirty Quidditch robes. 

"Morning, Sunshine," said Ron, grinning.  Harry glared at him. 

"I'm tired, I'm hungry, and my head hurts," barked Harry. 

"It was your idea to have Quidditch practice at five o'clock in the morning, oh Captain, my Captain.  Perhaps you might want to push the time back in future practices so you have a chance to eat." 

Harry shook his head.  "No can do.  We've only got a week left of practice before Christmas holiday and then five weeks when we come back before we have to play Slytherin.  Malfoy cannot catch that Snitch and the team has to be ready.  We've got a title to defend." 

"That's six weeks, Harry," said Ron.  "You've got plenty of time.  A few hours of extra sleep would probably be helpful rather than harmful.  You should really think about it.  I don't want to see you get burned out." 

"I'll be fine," said Harry.  "Besides, Christmas holiday will give me time to rest.  You're staying, aren't you?" 

Ron nodded.  Harry had gone home last year to the Burrow with him, but his parents were going to Romania again to see Charlie this Christmas.  Apparently, he had a new girlfriend, and things were starting to look serious between them.  The holiday presented a perfect time for his parents to meet her, and so Ron was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, while Ginny had been invited back to Hermione's.  Things were going to be boring but at least he was going to have Harry to be bored with. 

"You going down to breakfast?" asked Harry, breaking Ron's thought process.  He nodded a second time.  "Will you wait for me?  I just want to get changed." 

"Sure."  Harry headed past him and up the stairs, leaving Ron alone in the common room.  Taking a seat on one of the plushy armchairs, Ron pulled his knees up to his chest and let his chin rest on them.  In Harry's absence, his mind drifted back to the holiday plans. 

Almost everyone from Gryffindor was going to be gone for Christmas.  There had been a third year and a first year who signed up to stay besides Harry and Ron, but they would mostly be out of the way.  Ron couldn't remember a time when he and Harry had basically been on their own.  Hermione, his family, or one of the other boys in their year always seemed to be around.  The circumstances were making him nervous, if not paranoid. 

There was something Ron never expected to think.  The thought of being in Harry's presence, alone, made him nervous.  If things had been like there were before, if it had been last year, Ron would have had no qualms at all about the situation, but since September, things had changed. 

They had just gotten back to school from summer holiday and it was two weeks into term when Harry sat both Ron and Hermione down and told them he was bisexual.  There had been dozens of questions that they threw at him once the initial shock passed, ranging from when he found out to why he hadn't told them sooner.  They had tried to be accepting; Harry was their friend after all.  He insisted that he didn't want them to look at him any different and they swore they wouldn't.  Perhaps Ron could have kept that promise if Hermione hadn't decided just then to ask Harry, "Who made you realize you were bisexual?" 

Harry had turned the deepest shade of crimson Ron had ever seen him turn.  Part of his twisted mind expected Harry to say Malfoy's name, but he had shook his head and insisted that it was the one thing he couldn't tell them.  Hermione, however, was relentless, and Harry finally caved and whispered it in her ear.  At first, Ron was hurt that Harry would trust Hermione enough to tell her, but he wouldn't tell him.  Weren't they best friends?  Did Harry think it would freak Ron out and make him uncomfortable, talking about guys?  Ron had always thought he was an accepting person.  Then, however, Hermione's jaw had dropped, her eyes had grown huge, and she spat out, "You fancy _Ron?" _

The only thing Ron could remember about that moment now was that Harry had looked murderous.  Hermione, clearly, had thought this was some sort of joke, but one look at Harry's face said differently.  At a loss for words, and unable to even think coherently, Ron had stared dumbly at Harry before the latter had gotten up and left Gryffindor tower, obviously thinking his best friend hated him.  It took Ron almost two hours to track Harry down, finding him in the astronomy tower, and explaining that he didn't hate him, he was just in utter shock.  How often does a guy hear his male best friend fancies him? 

Things after that had changed between them.  It wasn't the first time it happened, either.  During their fourth year, after the second task in the Triwizard tournament, something had shifted there as well.  Both Ron and Hermione had been taken, each one thinking they were both there for Harry.  It had come as quite a surprise when they discovered it was solely Ron that Harry valued most in his life.  Ron had been touched beyond words and, to this day, he didn't know what to make of it. 

It wasn't that Ron was uncomfortable around Harry.  He was still the same person, but he was started to see something differently, and it scared him.  All of Gryffindor and most of the school knew about Harry's orientation.  Some people had issues with it (Slytherins), but it was something that was generally ignored.  The Gryffindors had tried to be supportive and it was Seamus Finnigan who had just said to Ron last week, "With the way Harry goes on about guys, it's starting to make me curious.  Harry's making me bicurious.  If I was the one Harry fancied I'd have definitely acted by now."  It was like adding fuel to the flame (pun not intended), and he was now starting to get more than curious himself.  They'd be alone over Christmas holiday, on their own, and Ron just didn't know what he was supposed to make of it all. 

"What are you thinking about?" asked Harry, cutting through his thoughts for a second time in one morning. 

"Nothing." 

"Are you sure?  You seemed really deep in thought when I came down here." 

"I don't have deep thoughts," Ron said in his defense, causing Harry to laugh.  "Breakfast?" 

"Gods, yes.  I'm starving." 

"You're always starving," said Ron, following Harry out the portrait hole, not missing the fact he had just subconsciously checked out Harry's ass. 

~*~

"Can I talk to you, Hermione?" 

Hermione looked up from her notes to see Ron standing over her, peering down at her curiously.  She nodded and motioned to the chair next to her.  Ron gazed around the library and then took a seat. 

"What's up?" 

"Er - I don't know where to start." 

"The beginning usually works best." 

"Right."  Ron let out a heavy sigh.  "I have a problem." 

Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips deepened into a frown.  "What kind of problem?  You aren't in any sort of trouble, are you?" 

"No, it's nothing like that."  Pausing, Ron took another deep breath.  "It's about Harry." 

"What about Harry?" 

Ron's tongue felt very heavy in his mouth.  "I'm starting to get curious.  Actually, I think it's more than getting curious.  I don't know what I'm talking about, Hermione.  I _am curious, except it's more than that.  I think I actually want it and I'm so confused." _

Hermione stared.  "You aren't the only one.  Could you elaborate?  And go a little slower this time." 

"Okay," said Ron, preparing himself.  "I think I'm starting to fancy Harry." 

"You fancy Harry?  The way he fancies you?" 

"I think so."  Ron sighed.  "I'm not gay.  I don't even think I'm bisexual." 

"Ron, forget labels for a minute.  They're only going to drive you crazy, if they haven't already.  Besides, no one can every accurately label a feeling.  'Gay' is only a word.  Do you really fancy Harry?" 

There was a long silence as if Ron was thinking it over, but he already knew the answer.  Nodding, he said, "Yes." 

"So what's your problem?" 

"Like it isn't a problem that I fancy Harry," said Ron with a snort. 

"I don't see how it is," she answered, plainly.  "You fancy him.  He fancies you.  You're going to have to tell me why it's a problem, and if you even say it's because you're both male, I'm going to hex you." 

How was he ever going to explain this? 

"There are so many problems with it, Hermione," he said, finally.  "Let's start with the fact that we're best friends.  If we were together and then we broke up, it could potentially ruin the friendship." 

"Fair enough," she said, "but there could be something really great, too.  You just have to decide if it's worth the risk.  What else?" 

"I'm scared." 

Hermione stared at him for what felt like a very long time. 

"I would be too," she said, finally. 

"There's so much pressure that goes with dating a best friend," Ron started to ramble.  "I don't want to have to get jealous if I see him talking to someone else, and you know my jealous streak is infinitely long.  What if I wasn't what Harry expects me to be?  What if _Harry isn't what __I expect him to be?  What if our friendship was ruined?" _

"I know there's a lot to be scared of Ron.  I know.  But you've got to ask yourself, is being with Harry worth all those risks?  No matter what you decide, I'll be behind you completely, and I'm always here to talk to.  Remember that." 

"I will," he said, softly.  "Thank you, Hermione." 

"Anything to help out a friend." 

~*~

The week between that afternoon with Hermione in the library and Christmas passed without much notice.  Students had gone home and the school was so empty that it was eerie being in the halls.  Gryffindor was practically deserted, the first and third year spending time in other dormitories with friends from different houses, or in the common room, playing Exploding Snap, wizard chess, or a game of gobstones.  Ron woke on Christmas morning in time to see the sunrise, and he stood by the window, watching a myriad of hues paint across the morning. 

He cast a look to the presents sitting at the ends of both his and Harry's beds.  Making his way over to Harry's bed, he ripped back the curtains and plopped down on Harry's legs, poking him in the chest. 

"Wake up, Sleepyhead," called Ron in a sing-song voice.  Harry made an unintelligible grunt that, for a moment, Ron thought sounded like one of Malfoy's cronies.  "Harry Potter, it is Christmas morning and you have presents, so wake up." 

Harry tried to roll over but Ron was still sitting on his legs.  This gave Harry nothing to do but grunt a second time.  Ron poked him roughly in the chest for what seemed like the thousandth time. 

"G'way, Ron," he murmured. 

"It's Christmas, Harry," he called, and started poking Harry in the face.  "Happy Christmas, Harry.  Wake up!" 

Harry cracked open an eye.  "Good morning to you, too." 

"It's Christmas," Ron said, plainly. 

"I had no idea."  Harry watched as Ron walked back over to his bed, and he then sat up.  Grabbing the sheets, he pulled them around his waist, trying to hide the erection Ron had given him from bouncing all over his legs in an attempt to wake him up.  Trying to think unsexy thoughts, like Dudley in anything, Harry made his way to the end of the bed. 

They had made their way through most of the presents ("Maroon again!" Ron had exclaimed, opening his Weasley jumper) when Harry got to a large, lumpy parcel, almost completely covered in Spello tape. 

"Yours?" asked Harry.  Ron nodded, sheepishly. 

At one point, Harry had to use his teeth to get through the packaging, and the emerald green cloak fell out to the ground.  With careful hands, Harry reached down, grasped the material, and immediately put it on. 

"Ron!  You shouldn't have!" he exclaimed, laughing. 

"I just wanted you to stop complaining.  It was for my own selfish reasons." 

"Selfish or not, thank you." 

Shrugging, Ron wandered over to sit next to Harry on his bed.  Harry went back to thinking about Dudley. 

"You just kept going on and on about how your old cloak was too small and I thought you needed a new one.  It looks good on you." 

Bugger, Harry thought.  How was he supposed to not think about Ron when their thighs were brushing and Ron was telling him the cloak looked good on him? 

"Thanks," said Harry, nervously, and he reached over to hug Ron.  Instead, he found himself pressed, mouth against mouth, with Ron.  Harry stilled, and to this day, neither one was sure who initiated the first kiss.  All they knew was the soft flesh of lips meeting lips, the heat of their breath mixing, and the initial shock that hit them both at the connection. 

Their eyes were still open, lips pressed together, and neither daring to move, whether it be to pull away or continue the kiss.  With a long, lazy blink, Ron found himself staring into Harry's eyes at a view that was far too close to be sexy, and far too unsure.  This wasn't how things were supposed to go at all. 

"Harry," said Ron against Harry's lips. 

"What?" 

"Are we kissing?" 

"If we are, it really sucks." 

Ron gave a gentle laugh.  His conversation with Hermione the week before came back to him.  She would be behind him no matter how things ended.  It wasn't too late.  He could pull back, pull away, and their friendship could remain unaffected.  What had happened next surprised even Ron. 

Slowly, afraid to break the moment, Ron had removed Harry's glasses, placed them on the nightstand, and returned to brush his lips against Harry's.  With tentative fingers, he ran his hand down Harry's cheek, along the jaw line, and cupped the back of his head.  His fingers curled in the hair at the nape of his neck, sifting through the mass of jet black strands.  A surge seemed to shoot through his fingers and up his arm before permeating through his body.  It seemed to be the same feeling Ron could feel in his fingers when successfully performing a very difficult charm in class.  This was a _good feeling. _

Deepening the kiss, Ron pulled Harry's head closer and swept his tongue along his bottom lip, seeking entrance.  His lips slightly parted, granting permission, and Ron snaked his tongue through the entrance to glide it over Harry's in one slick stroke.  The small moan he received only encouraged him, making him hungry for more.  His muscles were going taut, a tugging sensation forming in the pit of his stomach, and Ron could feel his cock growing hard.  The only thought running through his mind was that it was Harry do this to him.  It only turned him on more. 

Pressing Harry back onto the bed, Ron shifted himself to have one leg on either side of him, straddling Harry's waist, and he bent down to meet Harry's lips in a powerful kiss.  Ron moved to kiss the corner of Harry's mouth, then skirting across his cheek, leaving kisses as he went, until running his tongue along the length of his jaw line to find his destination.  Biting gently, Ron tugged at his earlobe and then suckled, soothing the slight sting away.  Harry whimpered, arching his back ever so slightly.  His fingers were trailing down Ron's back, feeling the muscles move beneath his fingertips, and hooked in the waistband of his pajama pants, the only article of clothing he seemed to be wearing.  When did his best friend decide it was a good idea not to wear underwear, not that Harry was complaining? 

It was during the time that Harry had discovered Ron's lack of undergarments that he, himself, lost his shirt.  The distractions were forgotten when the heat of Ron's mouth had reappeared on his collarbone, gently biting and sucking, surely leaving a mark.  Harry wished he wouldn't make so much noise but he couldn't help the small moans and whimpers that seemed to be coming out of his mouth on their own accord when Ron was licking, sucking, kissing, and biting his way down his bare chest. 

Beneath his fingers, Ron could feel Harry's stomach clench, the muscles twitching as he made the long trek down to erection tenting his pants.  Ron's mouth covered one erect nipple, then the other, pinching lightly and rubbing his thumb over the nub not being entertained by his tongue.  Harry was thin, but his body was hard, muscles defined from years of Quidditch playing, and Ron ran his tongue along the definition, trying to memorize every last inch of Harry's skin.  He could do this forever if that was what it took. 

Around the navel, and Ron was breaching the waistline of Harry's pajama pants when Harry said, "Ron, wait." 

He stilled, and then crawled back up to straddle Harry's waist, trying to ignore how aroused they both were.  Harry obviously wasn't ready for this.  And here Ron thought _he was going to be the scared virgin. _

But Harry didn't stop him.  All he did was ask, "Are you sure about this?  Really sure, because I don't want you to do anything you're going to regret, no matter how much I want it." 

Ron never answered.  Instead, he cupped Harry's face with his hands and ran his tongue along the scar on his forehead in one liquid stroke.  The moan Harry released told Ron it was more than okay to continue where he had been going.  He was about to move back down when Harry hooked his legs around Ron and flipped their positions, pinning Ron beneath him.  It wasn't long until Ron lost his pajama pants. 

For the next hour, they had pleased each other in ways they never thought they could be satisfied.  Being in each other, around each other, they had taken their knowledge of each other to a whole new level, exploring places they never thought they'd explore the first day on the train.  Now they lay spooned in Harry's bed, Ron in back, his chin resting on Harry's shoulder.  They were still covered in a sheen layer of sweat, hair sticking to their necks and foreheads, panting to catch their breath. 

"I love you," Ron said, finally, breaking the awkward silence that was starting to build. 

"You - what?" 

Ron chuckled.  "I love you.  I knew before, I just - I guess I was afraid to say it.  I wouldn't have done that with you if I didn't love you." 

"I didn't. . .I didn't know." 

"Now you do." 

"I love you, too." 

Ron nodded, kissing his cheek.  "I know.  I'm the most important person in your life." 

"Always." 

"I'll have to tell Hermione I decided." 

"Decided what?" 

"That you're worth all the risks." 

"I'm confused. 

"I'm not surprised."  Harry nudged Ron in the ribs.  "It's just - I told Hermione that I fancied you and I was afraid. . .I didn't want to lose our friendship.  I don't want to lose our friendship, but being with you is worth the risk.  I want something more." 

"What other secrets are you hiding in regards to your feelings for me?" 

"Nothing. . .I'm scared, Harry." 

"Me too, Ron." 

"Everything's going to be different now." 

"I know.  I can deal with it though.  You're worth the risk, too." 

Ron titled Harry's head back to kiss him.  "Happy Christmas, Harry." 

"Happy Christmas."


End file.
